This had to be the wildest week of my life, snapping my eyes open to an unfamiliar ceiling for the seventh day in a row. Come on now, this shit was easy now.
I was falling into routine, and it felt like I was coming into my own skin. More time to adjust, more time to get acquainted, more time for me to understand what happened, and the more time I gave myself to sink deeper into the soft belly of Willow's matriarchal household, the more at home I'd feel.
And I didn't like it, but I was starting to get used to it.
I shuffled out of bed as an intense post workout burn registered in every muscle. I believed I've only conceded myself one or two rest days. Kendra would've been proud of me, if she'd been around to witness it, but she'd been nowhere to be seen in the last couple of days. She was either avoiding me, or it just so happened that our schedules never overlapped.
That was alright. I was learning to do it on my own.
I threw the curtains wide open, letting the sun in.
The sky was blue and clear. The birds chirped. A woman, who happened to be out in the yard doing some yardwork, glanced at my window and quickly went back to business after a brief wave and a bright smile. I waved back, widening the curve of her lips even further.
Ah, I felt like a Disney princess from a parallel world. The days were such a leisure, and while I wouldn't say no to some crazy adventure, there was no hero to climb my castle walls and rescue me. And they'd like have pass through five fierce dragons in the form of my family members.
Who knew, maybe I'd slay my own dragon and then mount it. I chuckled to myself.
"......"
Right, food. The first order of business. Actually, second. I had to shower first.
Downstairs, I found the kitchen abuzz with activity. Willow, Freya, Iris, and Ivy were all in attendance, in what seemed to be a mini committee meeting over the kitchen stoves. Calista was missing from the morning roll call, likely sleeping in even later than me.
Considering the work she did, I was not one to blame her.
"Good morning, Mom, Aunt, Iris, Ivy." I greeted them all, and was immediately met with a choir of 'good mornings' in return.
"Damien, dear, you're just in time." Willow said, turning around from the stove where she was whisking something in a bowl. "I'm making pancakes for breakfast."
"Protein pancakes?" I asked, because I had in fact gone through several bodybuilding websites to see what meal plan I should adhere to for maximum gains, and I wanted those gains, whatever the cost.
"Yes, yes." Willow said, giving me a look that said stop being so serious about it. "Freya got me some high protein powder."
"Wait, you've been putting that in the pancakes?" Freya asked, a hint of amusement in her voice as she sat at the breakfast table, sipping a cup of coffee.
"It's a healthier option." Willow said defensively. "You can't taste the difference anyway."
"I can taste the chalky aftertaste." Freya made a face. "But I guess I'll survive... for Damien, of course." She winked at me.
I smiled, and took a seat next to her. "I appreciate the sacrifice."
"I'd do anything for you, sweetie."
She had this unapologetically sensual way of speaking that I couldn't tell if it was her nature or if she was just trying to get a rise out of me. It was a little of both, I decided.
"So, what are we all talking about?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation.
"Mom was just telling us about the new security system she wants to install." Iris piped up, she was standing by the counter, chopping some fruits. "She's worried about your safety."
"I'm always worried about his safety, Iris." Willow corrected her, though not unkindly. "It's my job as his mother to be."
I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Mom. We live in a safe neighborhood."
"That's what they always say, Damien." Willow said, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. "And then something happens."
"Something like what?"
No, seriously. What the fuck? I've been closely following the news in this world, and besides a few heated political debates about the Men's Mobility Act and the legalization of polyandrous unions, which were about as exciting as watching paint dry, there wasn't much else going on.
Yes, there were the occasional issue with women doing stupid things, like that one who got arrested for trying to sneak into a men's bathroom, but that was about it as far as recent headlines went.
The last dirty murder case was years ago—where a woman stabbed her sister over a man they both had a crush on, and then she stabbed him too.
The law was incredibly severe for those cases. No one in this world would dare to harm a man, and if they did, they'd likely be thrown into a maximum-security prison for life.
Even death sentences were abolished in favor of a life-long imprisonment, as humanitarianism became more mainstream.
It was a dangerous life for a woman who had less than pure intentions towards men. News of public lynchings weren't surprising.
"Like... someone breaking in." Willow said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What if they're after you, Damien?"
"They'd have to get through me, first." Ivy said with a sudden surge of confidence, which was both cute and a little alarming. She puffed out her chest, like a little bird trying to look intimidating. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd brought a foam sword to prove her point.
"And me." Iris added, her voice soft but firm. "And Aunt Freya."
"I think we're all forgetting Calista's reaction to an intruder." Freya interjected with a smirk. "She'll probably use their intestines to hang them from the chandelier."
That was... a surprisingly vivid image. I had to agree with my aunt on that one. Calista would probably be the most dangerous of the bunch. One could imagine her, smoking leisurely while stepping over the dead bodies, not even bothering to wipe the blood off her shoes.
I was, naturally, quite disheartened that my own possible intervention in a hypothetical break-in scenario was not even considered. But I guess that was my place in the family.
"Don't worry about it, Damien. Nothing will happen to you. This is just for additional... safety." Willow said, gently patting my cheek before placing a plate of pancakes in front of me. They looked perfect, golden brown, with a small pat of butter melting on top. "Now eat up. You need your strength for your workout."
"Thanks, Mom."
The pancakes were delicious, as expected.
xXx
Before heading out for my midday workout, I decided to stop by Calista's room.
Throughout the week, I wasn't lazy around doing just the bare minimum of exercises. I spent my mornings studying the craft, watching endless videos about music theory, vocal coaching, production techniques. I've even managed to complete my lyrics for the song I wanted to do.
At least a rough skeleton of it.
The world of music was a fascinating rabbit hole, and I was more than happy to dive into it.
I knocked on her door.
"Calista? It's me."
A long pause. Then, the door creaked open. Calista stood there, looking as she always did—beautiful, a little tired, and slightly annoyed.
"What."
"I need to talk to you about the song." I said. "You haven't given me any feedback yet. Are we going to collaborate or not?"
My confidence had grown since that last encounter. I wasn't about to let her brush me off so easily.
"You're still on about that?"
"You thought I wasn't serious?" I raised an eyebrow.
"I thought you were having a mid-life crisis, at the tender age of nineteen." She shot back, clicking her tongue. "Damien, you have a great voice... but I don't think that a musical career for you is something you should pursue seriously."
"Why not?"
I frowned. It's not like I was expecting to become Michael Jackson—and I didn't even believe I could—but her immediate dismissal was a little frustrating.
"This industry is a meat grinder I'd rather you not be a part of, because for you, a man, it's going to be even worse." She said coldly. "Also, does Mom and Aunt Freya even know about this?"
"I don't have to sign up with any label company." I protested. "I could be completely independent. And I haven't decided whether that's the path I'll take in this particular field, I just thought this is what I'd want to explore. This is where I'm currently finding happiness doing, and I'd like to ask you to be a part of it."
Calista's frown deepened, along with her sigh. She clicked her tongue and pushed the door open. "Come in."
I waited as she plopped back down in front of her laptop and lit a cigarette.
"So?" She turned towards me. "You have something in mind?"
"Sort of." I said. "I have the lyrics. And I have an idea of how I want it to sound."
"You actually wrote it yourself?"
Her tone was dripping with disbelief.
"Yes, I did."
Calista crossed her arms. "And are you going to show it to me?"
Ah, should I?
Looking back at the lyrics I'd written the other day, it was... definitely not something a man in this world would write. Nothing too explicit, for sure, but the themes were definitely not about the gentle self-assertion or polite grievances that men like Emmett or Lior would sing about.
And despite my hesitations, if I wanted Calista's full cooperation, I had to show her what I was made of.
"Here." I handed her my phone, with the notes app open.
She squinted as she started to read.
Her expression remained impassive for a while. She took a long drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing brightly. She scrolled down. And down.
Then, she stopped.
Her eyebrows shot up.
She scrolled back up, as if to re-read a specific part.
Then, she looked at me.
Her eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Damien... this is..."
"What?"
"You've got to be out of your goddamn mind!"
"I think we've established that." I retorted drily.
"Okay, whatever, we'll settle the fact that you're, for lack of a better term, an absolute lunatic later. I have to talk to you about the content of this piece of shit."
"Really?" I put my hands on my hips. "My music? A piece of shit?"
"W-W-What is this double entendre here? The language and the lyrics are fairly generic but the sexual subtext is quite suggestive here." There was a vivid enough blush on her cheeks the same color of the lit end of her cigarette. She tapped quite aggressively the part of the lyrics I wrote. "You're on your knees? Take you for a spin? Jesus Christ, Damien, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"It's a metaphor." I said calmly, refusing to be rattled by her sudden outburst.
What I wrote wasn’t even that crazy, there were just one or two parts that were a bit more spicy, but that’s it.
Back in my world, I’ve heard women’s songs being far more thirsty—from women, in my world.
"A metaphor for what?! Licking a pussy?!" Her voice cracked with frustration. "You can't release this!"
"What's wrong with it? I've seen women write songs that are far more explicit."
I was talking about this world now.
"But you're a MAN!" She gestured wildly with her free hand, almost hitting her monitor. "Do you have any idea how the world would react to a man singing this?"
"Well, how would you react to me singing this?"
"That's not the point!"
"Then what is?"
She was starting to get flustered. Her breathing was getting faster, and her cheeks were getting redder. She stood up and started pacing around her room.
"This is... this is..." She stammered, looking for the right word. "This is dangerous."
"Why can't a man sing this? Why does it have to be dangerous? I'm talking about a woman's pleasure, not mine. Why can't I worship her, want her, be unapologetic about it?"
Calista stopped pacing.
"I need a smoke." She said, even though she already had a lit cigarette between her fingers.